The Truth Between
by HighLadiesOfTheWineCourt
Summary: Still grappling with her Making, Nesta Archeron will need to overcome prejudices both old and new as she adjusts to her new life in Velaris. Taking place immediately following the events at Hybern, Nesta will be challenged by new enemies, new powers, and new desires. Cassian/Nesta
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

We crashed into the dirt. Elain in my arms. Beautiful, sweet, tender Elain, who worked her garden every day on her own, never letting the servants do more than carry the buckets of water, whose quiet charm had won over the son of a lord-a _lord_. A fae hating lord.

She was now Fae.

We were now Fae.

And sweet, loyal Elain would never be able to honor her word to that lord. That was enough to make my blood catch fire.

Elain reached up and brushed her finger lightly along my now pointed ear- when her skin met mine her eyes widened. Fear flickered in those honey eyes-fear at what had happened, fear at what we now were-and she fainted.

The blonde one, Mor, was striding purposefully away from us, toward a small cabin. Elain hung limp in my arms. There were half frozen peaks all around us; towering over the vast and barren valleys-these were the immortal lands of Prythian. I clutched Elain's prone body to mine, her beauty ethereal even in unconsciousness, and did the only thing I could think of. I threw my head back and roared to our forgotten gods.

Mor turned around as I yelled; jogging towards us now, arms ready to scoop up Elain.

I bared my teeth at her, and just as quickly recoiled in horror at the instinct, this new instinct. She looked at me and nodded; allowing me to scoop Elain into my own arms and head towards the cabin.

"This cabin is warded to prevent any from outside our family in," Mor said. "You and Elain have been allowed here since the day Feyre and Rhys acknowledged their Mating bond."

Feyre. She'd brought this all down upon us with that damned ash arrow and her lord of spring _._ All she ever wanted to do was protect us, but she brought us nothing but despair. Her love for the high lord of night-her _mate_ -wasn't enough to save us.

Mate. The word rang inside my head. I saw that russet haired high fae looking at Elain like she was his, his and his alone. _You're my mate_. Elain was no such thing.

"I'm not your family," I spat, crossing the threshold into the squat cabin.

I took in the layout, assessing the weapons on display, the exits, not taking in the lavish decor until my eyes rested on the table; the top smeared with paint of all colors. That's when I noticed the color throughout the room: four sets of eyes atop the mantle; the pattern of membranous red and gold flecked wings, just like _his_ wings. Those wings, which had been shredded as easily as those beasts had shredded our curtains when they'd taken us.

Feyre had been here, painted here, she had been _happy_ here.

"You'll be safe here," Mor said. "I-I have to go." I had met very few high fae, but I had

never heard one stumble over their words before. Mor released a breath I'm not sure she even knew she was holding, "I'll be back."

And then she was gone.

I lowered Elain into the nearest chair, but I was restless, and for a moment was

envious of Elain's oblivion. I wanted someone to fight, someone to punish for what had been done to us; but no one came. And we were alone.

 _We were starving_. _I had never known such hunger. The food we had been able to buy with the money we had squirreled away had run out days ago, and that was before the creditors had come. Father's leg was a mangled mess. It reminded me of meat I had seen stripped bare and sold at the butcher's, not that we could afford meat anymore. Bread and water, that had been our diet for a week. I was the oldest, I knew I should figure something out; but I couldn't- wouldn't- leave Elain._

 _This wasn't the life I had been groomed for. I didn't know how to hunt or trap. The only thing I'd ever held in my manicured hands that had ever come close to a weapon was a sewing needle. I could match a pitch and recite poetry, but I couldn't help my family survive._

 _Even Elain had started to think of ways she could help to get us food- but I couldn't even entertain the thought that this was our life now. That this was anything more than temporary. Father's leg would heal, his ships would be found, we'd be saved._

 _But it was Feyre who had saved us. I hadn't even noticed when she'd slipped off, a scrap of a thing at fourteen, I pretended I hadn't hoped she would go- find us something to eat. And if she got eaten herself, well that was one less mouth to feed, and Feyre was half a wild beast herself. When she had entered the cabin after nightfall with three rabbits strapped to her sidebag, I hadn't even said thank you- I'd just asked her if she could get more._

"Nesta?" Elain whispered feebly from behind me. I rushed to her side, even as a jolt of pain pulsed through my body-my new immortal body. I pulled her onto my lap, brushing the hair from her face.

"Elain," I sighed, "Are you hurt?" She shifted in my arms, assessing her new body with a sweep of her eyes. Her limbs were longer, her body lithe with power; her beauty was sharper than before- _before_ , I was loath to use the word- as if the Cauldron had brought every piece of her into brilliant focus.

"I'm-" she hesitated, as she lifted herself from my arms. "I'm quite sore, actually."

I huffed a laugh. "As am I." And as I said it I knew it to be true. My muscles ached, as if they had been stretched by four horses going in opposite directions. My vision widened and narrowed, in constant flux as my fae eyes adjusted to seeing every detail of the room.

"It's strange," Elain said softly, "I want to take in the whole room- but my eyes just keep focusing on bits of dust."

I laughed despite myself, I too was struggling with seeing anything beyond how filthy this place was. "You'd think they'd be able to keep it a bit tidier with their magic and all," I said.

"Oh I don't know," Elain sighed, "It feels well loved, well worn, but where are we-" she swallowed her next words as her pupils narrowed; she remembered where we were- what had happened.

"Where is Feyre?" Elain asked with a high pitched voice. I held her back as she tried to push herself off the couch.

"She's gone Elain- with that high lord of spring. He took her back- and now we're stuck _here_." I gestured with a sweep of my slender arm to the small cabin and the desolate black night outside.

"I don't think she wanted to go with him," Elain said, "I think she went with him to protect them-protect us."

I pressed my lips together; I didn't want Elain to realize exactly how much I didn't care _why_ Feyre did it, or where she was now, or to know how much I blamed her for everything that had happened to us.

"No," I said curtly, "I don't think she did."

There was a knock on the door. I whirled, shifting in my seat, putting myself between Elain and the door, to whatever loomed beyond.

I hesitated long enough for the knock to sound again.

"Who is it," Elain called, ever the hostess. I hissed at her to be quiet.

"Rhysand," a male voice called, heavy with concern. His voice was devastating, filled with power and darkness, even as it broke, "Your sister's mate."

"Come in," Elain chimed, as if clinging onto those old niceties were the only thing keeping her sane. The door opened, bringing with is a gust of warm spring air and a high lord.

"This belongs to you," I gestured to the open room. The high lord nodded, his beautiful face grave and assessing. "Then why bother knocking?"

"Next time I'll be sure to let myself in."

"There won't be a next time. We're not staying here."

"No?" He cocked his head to the side. His violet eyes simmered in the gloom. "Where do you intend to go? Prithian is a vast land. Or perhaps you mean to go beyond the wall, back to the mortal lands."

"Our plans are our business," I spat, even as his words sunk in.

"Feyre sacrificed herself to get you out."

"And?"

" _And-_ " he seethed, nostrils flaring, "Feyre trusted me to keep you safe. And Cauldron boil me, I will do so."

"Cauldron," I barked a bitter laugh, "Damn your Cauldron."

"You owe her this," he breathed, almost imperceptibly, "If you give her nothing else, give her this."

And I saw myself how he saw me: the selfish, cruel older sister who'd done nothing to take care of her family through those long, cold years. He knew _nothing_ of what we had been through; how hungry we had been. He hadn't suffered as we had- had sacrificed nothing.

"What do you know about it?" I sneered, looking him up and down, "It doesn't look like you've sacrificed much."

The room went deadly calm; shadows began to leak from him. Elain whimpered behind me; my blood was like ice.

"Do not pretend, Nesta Archeron, to know what I have been through." His body loosened as he looked at me intensely. "You have two choices: you stay here in these lonely mountains and I come to stay here with you, or you come back with me to the city Velaris where you can avoid me all you want. But either way, you're stuck with me." He flecked an invisible speck off his lapel, "It could be worse, though, I am the most attractive high lord in Prythian's history after all."

The shadows receded into him, like dogs being called back to their master. He straightened as he looked at me, "So, what is your choice?"

And it was Elain who answered. "Velaris sounds nice."

And that was that.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

I'm not sure what I expected Velaris to look like- but whatever I was picturing was nothing like what I found. We'd been to the neighboring villages and towns, but Velaris was a city, vast and rolling.

I leaned as far away from Rhysand as possible while he descended, his wings taut on the down draft. My hair whipped in the wind. Rhysand's eyes were shadowed, as if he were recalling riding on these currents above his city with another female in his arms.

"This is the city you showed the queens," Elain breathed on his other side.

"I thought you said this place was safe," I said, taking in the occasional charred building, the broken glass, the dark windows of some homes.

"It is," he said with a tight face, "I-" he hesitated, "I gambled and lost. But it is safe now."

"Bitches," I muttered, remembering those mortal queens, how they'd sneered at immortality only to crave it themselves. I'd kill them, I'd kill them all. And for once, it seemed Rhysand and I agreed.

Elain brought her slender hand up to her pale throat, "It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Thank you, Elain," he said as he flew us onto a wide rooftop deck scattered with modest iron furniture and gently set us down.

Elain stepped out of his grasp and brushed her hand on the arm of an iron chair. She yelped and snatched her hand away, examining it for any damage, forgetting that Feyre had cautioned us that iron did not affect the fae. It was then that Elain looked down at her hand, at her iron engagement ring, given to her in another lifetime, in another world.

Rhysand looked apt to rest a supportive hand on her shoulder, but thought better of it, as if he knew what my response would be, what my instincts would rage at me to do if he touched her. "Iron does not affect our kind," he said gently. Our kind- _our kind-_ it made me sick to hear those words come out of his mouth.

"Oh. Yes," Elain said, "Our kind, I mean." She said it without looking at him, instead focusing on rubbing her thumb against her ring, as if making sure she wasn't about to burst into boils, as if she didn't trust her own skin.

"Come," Rhysand said. "I'll show you the house."

Elain looked up at me questioningly. I grasped her tighter as we followed him into the house- if we were going to be stuck here I might as well start learning all the exits and hiding places as soon as possible.

As if reading my thoughts Rhysand said, "No one may enter or exit this house without my permission."

"Don't look into my mind," I snapped.

"I didn't," Rhysand shook his head. "Your mind is," he searched for the words, "your mind is entirely your own." We continued down the stairs. "I've seen two Makings, yours was...different from those."

"What does that mean for us?"

His shoulders stiffened, "I- I do not know."

I huffed a laugh, "You don't know what we are. You said it yourself, you gambled and lost before with the queens. Why should we trust you? What do you know, Rhysand?"

He didn't answer that last part, "We don't know yet what the side effects may be, what powers-if any-you possess. The transition may be difficult."

"We have no powers," I said.

He closed his eyes tightly even as his mouth quirked up at the corners. "You Archerons," he muttered, "always underestimating yourselves."

"This is a lovely house," Elain ran her hand down the bannister, taking in the portraits hung with care on the walls, the warm and flickering light from the hearth, the six chairs around the sitting room.

I saw only the pools of blood.

Someone had to have died on this floor- there was no way the person this came from was still alive. Elain may have been fooled by the decor, charmed by the lavishness, but I was seeing what really happened here.

His wings.

Cassian his wings being ripped to shreds by the waves of the fae king's power. The agony in his cries rang through my mind, deafening me. I'd made him cry out in agony once, at the manor when my knee had collided with his groin, but his keening in the throne room had been of another sort of pain entirely. He'd used those wings as a shield, just as he'd promised to be _my_ shield.

"So he is-" my throat tightened, "He is dead?" Elain gave me a sad look while gripping my arm tighter.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow at me, "No," he smirked, "But I'll let him know you were worried. I'm sure it will speed his healing."

"Good. We'll need him in the war to come."

"Oh? And do you plan on assisting in this war or waiting in the comfort of this home by the fireplace while others fight on your behalf?"

"Please," Elain said, "don't fight. Not now. Not after...what happened."

"You do not know our family. I did not send Feyre out into those woods, she went of her own accord."

"Because you did nothing while your family starved. You forced her hand."

"You have no siblings, you don't understand."

"I had a sister." Rhys said holding my gaze with his. "I would walk through a thousand frozen wastelands, I would walk through fire, through hell, I would tear the world apart to get her back, to spend one more moment with her." His chest heaved, as if he was holding back an enormous rage. "I told you, do not pretend to know what I have and have not done."

I refused to quake, to tremble. I did not have to prove myself to him, to justify my actions, and yet I found myself saying, "Feyre was always the savior. She needed to be. I heard her make that promise to our mother, she didn't ask me, she asked Feyre. Feyre needed to be the savior of our family, it's who she is. Feyre didn't need me, but Elain did. So I let her. Call me selfish, call me cruel, but when Feyre was taken by that high lord," I spat the name, "Tamlin, I was the one who went looking for her. I tried to get her back."

"Why?" He asked, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

"Because she was the only one who knew how to hunt."

"Right," he said. We had stopped before a tall wooden door. He gestured with an open hand, "This is where you will be staying. I have handmaidens on staff should you need them, just speak the word. Otherwise, you will be left alone unless you seek us out." Then he turned on his heel and left.

I awoke screaming. My blood was on fire. My bones were being crushed, close to splintering. Elain had my hand in hers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Help," She gasped at no one.

Rhysand hovered above me. Sweat cascaded down my forehead as I gasped for air over the pain. "You're resisting, Nesta," he said forcefully. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but if you continue to fight the transition it will kill you." His delivery hid nothing, he wasn't going to coddle me, not with this, not with anything.

He knew I would need to be forced to keep myself alive in this new body because I knew nothing but the fight, the rage. It was who I was. I had never allowed myself to be anything but a warrior, had never give into helplessness or give up my control. Feyre had her physical strength, she could trek for hours in the woods and take down the beasts that roamed there. But I had been charged with keeping our dynasty alive, and if I had succumbed to that baser version of me the Archeron name would have withered into nothing.

I'd known when the glamor had taken Elain and Father, I'd known that the ships they'd discovered had been a part of that, but I had directed the money. Father had wanted to take the money and put it towards new ventures, but I had secured us the manor. I had brought us back to society. I had secured Elain's marriage. I had fought for our family.

"Shit," Rhysand said. And it was then that my vision blurred. I was sure that I was going blind, and yet visions began to swirl in my mind, obscure figures that I couldn't make out. I heard a small voice in the back of my head, a whisper, nothing more than a sliver of a shadow, a part of me that hadn't been there before. _I can show you._

The shadows continued to whirl rapidly, taking shape. I saw The King of Hybern, triumphant on his throne. He was responsible for this. My hatred for him grew as a spasm of pain ripped it's way down my spine. I remembered the smirk on his face, knowing he'd won. I wanted to rip his lips off his face. I wanted to make him feel the pain he'd brought my family tenfold.

The scene changed and I saw the Cauldron and the oily liquid bubbling in its depths. This time though, the contents looked almost inviting, beckoning me. Again I heard the voice, closer this time, _I can show you._ I edged closer to the Cauldron until I was looking down into it. I saw my hands reach out to clutch its rim, the metal calling to me. My fingers were inches away and I felt a static pulse, growing stronger as I came closer, and-

"Nesta," Elain pleaded, "Nesta please, I _need_ you to stay alive."

Just like that, and Rhysand and Elain were before me again. I shook my head as if clearing the last remnants of that illusion away.

I pushed myself onto my elbows; all of them, even Rhysand, recoiled a bit. Despite how exhausted I had been moments before, strength was already pooling back into my body.

Elain rushed to me and pressed a cool, wet cloth against my forehead. I fought the urge to throw her off. I was still trying to sort through what I'd just seen.

Rhysand cocked an eyebrow, "Tell me, Elain, has that happened to you?"

Elain faltered under his gaze, smoke pooling in his violet eyes. "No," she said, "I-I've been sore but that's it."

"Interesting," Rhysand repeated. "It seems your sister is having a more," he searched for the word, "difficult time with her Making."

"Prick," I muttered.

"The King of Hybern said that only one with incredible willpower could survive the transition. The fact that both of you survived is a miracle on its own. The Cauldron," he sighed, "the Cauldron's powers are immense. Elain, tell me, what do you remember when you were put under?"

She hesitated, "I-I don't remember. I remember screaming-Nesta and Feyre yelling my name. And then I went under." She shuddered. "I was afraid, but I didn't want to die- so I just didn't resist- and then I was on that cold stone floor."

None of us mentioned what happened next: that red haired, one eyed, male claiming Elain was his mate.

"And," Rhysand drawled, "We all know Nesta didn't go quite so quietly."

I glared at him from where I lay panting on the bed; he would have fought too if he'd had his sister at stake.

"I think Elain," he said, swiveling his head to face her, "that your disposition when you were Made may have influenced the way you are handling your transition. The same goes for you," he jerked his head at me. "When you pointed at the King of Hybern- threatened him with that one finger- everyone in that room knew you'd fight until your last breath. It was apparent that you were willing to do whatever it takes to kill him. Perhaps, the Cauldron listened."

He was right. In those moments while I writhed in the Hybern guards' arms, my toes dipping into the liquid, I'd promised that I would destroy anyone and anything in my path to get to him. And when I went under, I just kept promising the same thing.

"Perhaps," I said, swinging my legs over the bed- finding them strong considering what I had just gone through, "you should start finding answers to these questions rather than just guessing." I strode to the open door way, fighting to keep my knees solid so Elain wouldn't make me get back into bed.

"I need some air," I snapped. Neither stopped me as I walked out of the room.

I climbed the stairs to the roof where Rhysand had first brought us when we arrived. My limbs seemed to barely register the effort it took to climb the stairs; it made me wonder how much more painful this process would get for me.

I reached the roof and the cool, damp spring air lifted my hair from my shoulders and cooled the drying sweat on the nape of my neck. My dressing gown, damp with sweat, whipped around me in the breeze. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back; I savored the lack of heat in my veins. I felt myself start to tremble.

"Well we're a fine pair, aren't we," a voice said to my right. I snapped my eyes open and turned my head sharply to see a large male body leaning against the rail, a pair of wings drooping somewhat lamely behind him.

They were covered in bandages, blood leaking through like dark blossoms; some places had not knitted themselves back together yet, it appeared like the membranous tissue was reaching for one another, begging to be rejoined. Cassian, it seemed, was dealing with his healing process just as well I was handling my transition.

"Misery is never lonely."

"Nor is drunkenness." He passed me a half empty bottle of whatever Fae liquor he'd been imbibing. I noticed several bottles scattering the deck. "Amren told me drinking would slow the healing, but," he didn't finish the thought.

I didn't know who Amren was, but I noticed that he'd been watching the wind toss the trees back and forth with a look of longing so intense I felt as if I was interrupting two lovers. I took a swig right out of the bottle, sophistication be damned. I'd been sophisticated my whole life, look where it had gotten me. The taste of it made me take a step backwards: springtime berries, the smoke of cedar, light and complex. I marveled at it, taking another swig.

Cassian's eyes were upturned, watching the sky. I heard the booming of his wings, echoing above our estate when he'd come to deliver Rhysand's letter to the queens. I wondered when he'd last taken to the skies.

"You can't fly," I said.

"You Archeron women," he chuckled, "Always so observant."

"Am I doomed to be compared to my sister for eternity?" Eternity, I had that now.

"Your sister," Cassian paused, "is an amazing female. But she is not you, Nesta. You do not live in her shadow- you can be your own light."

I took a healthy swig from the bottle. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. I passed the bottle back to him.

"Have you ever had something you loved taken away from you?" Cassian asked, then closed his eyes, remembering our family's history, just as I snapped, "Of course I have."

We sat in silence for a moment, taking in the city below. Lights sparkling off of the calm water of the river, starlight illuminating the streets.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You can beat an Illyrian male, you can break his bones, you can whip him; but all it really takes to break us are our wings. They are our identity, who we are."

"And yet you used yours as a shield."

"Yes," he said softly. "And I would do so again."

"Will you fly again?"

He heaved a great sigh. "If I cannot fly again I would prefer death."

I huffed. "Well that's just idiotic. You Illyrians sound like a bunch of toddlers to me, whining when your toys get taken away from you."

"My wings," he gritted out, "are not _toys_."

"Fine," I said. "I thought when a soldier had one weapon taken from them they found another. You still have your mind, your fists. You are of no use to anyone drunk and moping."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, frowning slightly, considering.

"You are of no use to _me_ drunk and moping," I added, remembering the promise he had made me back at the manor.

This seemed to snap him out of his drunken reverie. He lowered the bottle which he had been about to take a drink from and looked at me, contemplating. His long, dark hair was unbound and ruffled, making him look wilder than I had yet seen him.

He leaned towards me, so close I could smell the liquor on his breath. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "There are many services I could offer you." His eyes ran hungrily down my body, taking in my sheer, sweat-soaked nightgown.

The memories of that day at the manor; where I let him so, so close to my neck. I shuddered and pushed the thought away.

"How dare you," I said. I crossed my arms over my chest, over my breasts.

He laughed darkly as he walked towards the door, and I noted that his insufferable swagger was back in his step, that his wings were a bit straighter. "Goodnight, Nesta Archeron," he said.

"Wait," I said after him. He turned, cocking an eyebrow at me in question, but I only said, "Leave the bottle."

He smirked, eyes twinkling as he walked over and handed me what remained of the bottle.

Tonight, I decided, I was getting drunk.


	3. Chapter 3

I was never drinking again. I'd had wine and spirits in the mortal realm at dinners and parties, but-

I jumped from the bed, racing to the bathing chamber as bile rose in my throat. I barely made it before I slid to my knees in front of the cool porcelain toilet and emptied my stomach into it. Everything hurt.

At least I hadn't seen that horrible Cauldron in my dreams. At least I hadn't awoken to find Elain burned out from the exhaustion of the Making or taken away by her _mate_ -Elain. Where was she?

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I reached up to flush the mess away. The haze and pain in my head cleared as I launched to my feet, willing the wave of nausea away.

I padded back into the room, shivering from exhaustion. I opened the wardrobe to see if there was anything I could wrap around myself to stay warm. Who knew what the fae considered casual attire? To my surprise I found a slew of thick sweaters folded carefully on the shelves. I plucked one off the shelf and pulled it over my head, relishing the rich fabric.

I stepped into the hallway and listened; who knew where Elain might be. I allowed my new, predatory instincts to guide me. Every sense was now honed, sharp a the edge of a blade. All at once I took in the fresh, earthy smell of early spring wafting through the house; I heard the sounds of a city awakening, the ringing of bells and early morning greetings; I noted the smell of jasmine that seemed to hang in the air, and accompanying that-bacon. My stomach howled at the smell drifting up from down the stairs. I peered around the corner of the banister, my ears picking up silverware clanking, soft murmurs, and the smallest of frightened gasps-Elain's gasp.

I took the stairs three at a time, bounding into the dining room. If I'd had claws they would have been out. Four sets of eyes looked up at me from a huge table laden with platters: Rhysand, Mor, Cassian, and-thank the forgotten gods-Elain, perfectly unharmed.

"Nesta," she cried as she noticed me, "You look so tired, come here, let me pour you a cup of tea. Are you hungry? Rhysand was just telling us the most fascinating story of how he'd once jumped from a cliff with his wings bound and-"

"Bacon, please," I said sitting down in a chair farthest from the group. Elain looked slightly crestfallen that I didn't want to hear more about the adventures of the high lord, but started piling bacon for me on a plate. To placate her slightly I turned to Rhysand, "Why would anyone jump from a cliff with their wings bound?"

"It was a dare," Rhysand said with a pointed look at Cassian.

"A dare that made Azriel twelve gold pieces richer."

Azriel, he was that other male that had been with them in the throne room; the one with the poisoned bolt through his chest. I remembered him from the manor, his beautiful face and unshakeable politeness. He was the one who seemed to both leak and speak with the tendrils of darkness that swirled about him like pets. I saw him as I'd last seen him, on his knees, helpless; Cassian's wings thrown out behind him, shielding him from the king's magic.

The feeling in the room shifted slightly. Mor gripped her utensils so hard her fingers were white knuckled. She could have attacked the king, she'd had her knife inches from his throat, but Azriel had been used against her. _What a prize,_ the king had said of Mor. And I remembered the promise of death in Azriel's voice as he said, _Don't you touch her,_ to the king, thinking of the golden haired fae even as he was at the king's mercy.

"Is he alright," Elain asked.

Rhysand stared deeply into the swirling black of his tea, "He will be," he said, "It's been a rough process. The poison went deep."

"If we can do anything," she began, wringing her hands in her lap, "Please, let us know." Rhys didn't answer her, but nodded slightly.

"What do we do now?" I said.

"Now," Rhysand said, "We finish breakfast." He gestured to my untouched plate. He stared at me and I glared back. I'd heard our kennel master once say that when a dog looked away from its master it was an act of submission, of obedience.

We'd been told since we were babes that to eat or drink in Prythian would enslave our bodies and minds to the fae. But that had already happened, I supposed. Still holding Rhysand's gaze I picked up a piece of bacon from my plate and bit into it as defiantly as possible. I almost moaned and, despite myself, I broke my stare. I had mocked Feyre for her aversion to our mortal food. I didn't understand how the food could be so similar yet so different. Furious hunger raked through me, and I devoured the heaping piles of food on my plate in such a fashion that I would have had my old governess fainting from shame.

"Nothing quite like bacon to take the edge off a hangover," Cassian said. There were dark circles under his hazel eyes, and yet they gleamed with mischief. I didn't respond, instead just shoveled more bacon into my mouth. Cassian chuckled and dug into his own plate.

I ignored him and turned again to Rhysand. "What now," I repeated. "Have you news from Feyre?"

I saw the effect my sister's name had on him, like he'd taken an arrow through the heart. His eyes became distant as he said tightly, "No." He did not elaborate and instead looked between Elain and I, as if considering how to approach what he wanted to say.

"We have many enemies. The King of Hybern and the Spring court to name a few. We do not know who our allies are, which of the other courts want to destroy the wall and which will fight to defend the mortal lands. Feyre is in a unique position to keep tabs on the Spring court, to find out which courts may be persuaded to our side. Just as you are in a unique position yourselves.

"You can stay here in this house, spend your days doing what you please and making life as normal as you can," he drummed his fingers on the table, "Or you can train with us. Train to fight. Train for revenge against the people who did this to you." His eyes stayed on mine, narrowing slightly, as if he was daring me to say no- to say I wouldn't train- to confirm to him exactly how selfish he thought I was.

Train. The word tumbled around my head, _train_. I was strong now; stronger than I had ever hoped to be- I could destroy. I _would_ destroy.

"Train," I said without thinking, "I want to train." I meant it, too. For the first time I didn't even look to Elain to consider her, to make sure this was what she wanted. What I wanted was to rip the King of Hybern, and those awful Queens, to little pieces before I burned them to nothing.

Rhys ploughed on. "And you?" he said to Elain.

"I-" Elain hesitated, "I want to help in whatever way I can." I knew that Elain could never take a life. It just wasn't part of who she was, and not even becoming fae could change that about her. But I also knew her desire to help those she loved most would manifest in its own way; she would find a way to make a difference.

Rhysand stood, "Fine," he said as he walked gracefully from the room, hands in his pockets. "We'll begin when you're ready."

Mor stood as well and looked at Elain. "Your sister mentioned that you tended the gardens at your estate. Our grounds are the laughingstock of the street, perhaps you'd like to look after them?"

That small kindness made my heart ache. Giving Elain something familiar in this new world of ours.

Elain nodded her eyes sparkling, "I think I'd like that very much."

"You might find that fae vegetation is a bit more challenging than the plants and flowers you'd find in the mortal realms, but I think you're up to it." Mor threw her arm over Elain's frail shoulders as if the two were old friends. I gaped at Mor, at her chipper attitude; I wondered if it was a mask. Mor kept up a stream of chatter as she ushered Elain out of the room. Elain's iron engagement ring glinted dully on her finger. She seemed to not notice it anymore; she was already letting go of her mortal life- like she had been born in that immortal body.

I thought again of the King of Hybern and the mortal queens, what they'd done to us. Elain should be tending her own garden at our manor; she had just planted rosebushes before we'd been taken. She'd wanted to use the flowers at her wedding. There was no one there to water or weed those bushes anymore. They'd wither and die. My rage, an emotion I had always felt too sharply, surged inside me.

Cassian's eyes snapped to me, "Take a deep breath," he said forcefully, "There isn't anyone to murder in this room."

"You're here," I snapped.

He brought a hand up to his chest as if wounded. "I liked you better last night,"

"Last night," I said dully, trying to remember.

"When you were silent in my arms, so cooperative."

What he was suggesting, what he was alluding to-A low growl sounded in my chest and I wished I'd never told him I'd never been with a man. "What are you talking about?"

He busied himself with fixing a cup of tea. He was letting me seethe. At last he said, "Don't worry, it took me years of training to be able to hold my liquor. And by training I mean drinking so much I saw double with the Illyrian war bands every night and waking up somewhere, having no idea how I got there, usually in various states of undress."

I gave him a long look and he continued with a wink, "All I'm saying is there's nothing

to be ashamed of."

The fork I was holding folded in half. "What, exactly, don't I have to be ashamed of?"

After he'd left I had finished off the bottle, watching the stars and city lights flickering as if in sync. I'd never seen a city before, and I wondered what sights and people I would encounter if I ever dared to explore it. And then-nothing, just a black pit where my memories should have been.

His eyes were wicked and bright, "You are, as we say in the Illyrian camps, a lightweight."

I glowered at him and he elaborated, his voice softer, "When I didn't hear you come back to your room, I came back up. You were asleep on one of the chairs, bottle in hand. I couldn't let you sit out there all night, so I carried you back to your room.

"I don't need a nursemaid."

"So you'd have rather I left you there?"

"I did not give you permission to touch me," I said in my best impression of my imperious, regal mother.

"You made that perfectly clear a few weeks ago," Cassian drawled. "I would never deign to touch you with my ill-born, bastard hands."

I gave him a withering look as I stood, knocking my chair over from the force of it.

"Next time," he said, placing his palms on the table, "I'll let you freeze."

"Fine," I said.

"Fine."

The words hung lamely in the air between us. The only sound was the crackling of the fire, burning merrily in its grate. Elain was off with Mor; Rhysand, I assumed, was off pathetically agonizing over my sister somewhere; and I was here, alone, with a lifetime ahead of me.

"So what is there to do around here anyway?" I asked, anything to break the silence. Elain had always been my charge; she'd been too weak, too kind to be left alone. I'd invested so much into Elain that I'd never had the chance to think about what I liked to do.

I could run a household, tally figures, take inventory; I could play hostess and plan parties, dancing with all of the appropriate aristocrat's sons at the appropriate times- I _could_ do those things. Feyre had her painting, Elain had her garden. Neither of those pursuits had interested me in the slightest. What did I have?

"I'm sure you'll find something to entertain yourself." His arms were crossed tightly, his nostrils flaring.

And I wondered if, despite all my stubbornness and bravery, if I'd ever dare to leave this house by myself.

Cassian glared at me for a moment then his eyes softened; he opened his mouth to say something, and I could almost see the invitation on his lips.

It was too much, too quickly. As if in confirmation, my legs started to tremble. I'd exerted myself just walking down to breakfast; my strength ebbing and flowing from me without warning. One moment I felt like I could move mountains and the next I wanted to sleep for a hundred years. "I'm going to nap," I said, turning on my heel and walking from the room. "Maybe you can ask me to Velaris another time."

I spent the next three days in bed. The episode from a few nights ago had left me so drained, so exhausted, I hadn't been able to move.

Two wraith-like fae attended to me intermittently; they brought me warm broth and changed my clothes. Elain had attempted to sit with me and talk; she jabbered on and on about new flowers and plants, and the lights of the city, she'd even tried to read to me from a book of fae tales she'd found in the high lord's library, but found me so unresponsive she had deigned to let me sleep at last.

I'd always been a light sleeper; sleep made you vulnerable, weak. I rarely slept through a night without jerking awake at the slightest sound. Even when my sisters and I shared a bed I had not been able to find comfort in the depths of my dreams. I thought sleep would be hard to find with these Fae ears picking up every noise in the house, but I was somehow able to turn that sense off, and allowed myself to drift away, to let go of the anger and give in to unconsciousness.

I dreamt of the mortal lands, of father-so bolstered up now that his ailments had been cured for him. I saw him returning to our manor, mine and Elain's beds empty, the sheets torn, the furniture knocked over, the servants missing. What did he make of this? He checked his study first; his jewels were untouched. He paced from room to room, taking inventory. Nothing was missing but for Elain and I.

When I wasn't sleeping I'd watch the day fade to night and back again from beneath warm, soft sheets.

When I at last felt like I could support my own weight, I teetered down to where I heard the sounds of voices and the smell of food. My sweater was so loose on my body, falling off my shoulders at the lightest shrug, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips.

I followed Elain's tinkling laugh down to where I found her at the table with Rhysand, and Cassian. They all had big smiles on their faces, taking time to enjoy the food and drinks, taking time to enjoy the company of each other. Cassian was the first to notice me, despite the fact that his back was towards the door. He swiveled so fast in his chair that it wobbled precariously on its legs.

"Nesta," Elain exclaimed, leaping lightly from her chair and bounding over to me, "I'm so happy you're finally out of bed! Can I get you something to eat?"

I brought my hand to the base of my throat, "Yes," I croaked. Elain lept into action, heaping piles of bacon, toast, eggs, and potatoes onto a plate she shoved in front of me after I took my seat across from Cassian.

The wings peeking over his shoulders didn't have any open places anymore- though the scars were still prominent. He had a grin on his face, his eyes were lighter than I had last seen them.

"How are your wings?" I asked, busying myself with pouring milk into my tea.

He looked behind each of his shoulders and stretched them out a little wider, "I'm healed completely." The smirk on his face was wide and confident.

"You've flown, haven't you?" I asked as indifferently as I could.

"Not yet," he said, and his smile faltered a bit.

I nodded while I nibbled on eggs and toast, avoiding his piercing stare. The table was mostly silent except for the sound of my chewing and the clink of my silverware; I could feel the eyes on me, waiting for me to lose control again, waiting for me to fall over from weakness. It sent a jolt of anger through my gut.

I finished my second plate of food before I set down my fork and knife and looked at Rhysand, "I'm ready," I said. He looked at me quizzically, "To train," I clarified.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Rhysand narrowed his eyes at me, assessing. "Very well," he said. "Cassian, bring her to the sparring ring after breakfast."

"No," I spluttered at the same time that Cassian said, "What?"

I rested my palms on the table. "I thought that you would be the one training me," I said to Rhysand.  
He laughed. "As much as it pains me to admit this Cassian can kick my ass in physical combat any day. It would be like taking lessons from an apprentice when you could learn from a master."

I wondered if the compliment was to convince me of Cassian's skill, or to remind Cassian of his own strength.

The table broke out in quiet laughter and agreements- it was...different to see a man admit to his own weaknesses, let alone one with the title of _high lord_. But training with Cassian- _Cassian-_ we'd almost torn each other to pieces without any weapons in the vicinity, I could only imagine what would happen if the two of us were in a sparring ring with steel.

Cassian and Rhysand had locked eyes across the table. I finally understood what Feyre meant when she talked about predatory fae behavior. This was nothing more than a pissing contest. Rhysand slowly stroked a finger down the handle of his tea cup while Cassian gripped the edge of the table so hard it began to moan under the pressure- he broke the gaze first. Rhysand chuckled under his breath as he stood from the table and walked from the room.

Elain looked between Cassian and I."Nesta," she said, "are you sure you're ready? There's no shame in it if you need to rest a while longer."

"I'm ready," I said, staring intently across at Cassian, if animalistic behavior was what it took to get my point across then so be it.

Elain let out an exasperated sigh. "Honestly you fae think they are such masters of culture, but look at you two, staring each other down like two beasts in the woods."

Neither Cassian nor I responded to her question, letting it fall on the table like another dish of food.

Finally, Cassian pursed his lips and pushed his chair back. He leaned his long body towards me across the polished wood, "Meet me on the roof in one hour." His voice was sharp, cutting, the voice of the general.

I simply nodded and went back to my tea.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and followed over the past couple of weeks! xoxo High Ladies of the Wine Court

Chapter 4:

"I said keep your shoulders back," Cassian snapped as I demonstrated my fighting stance for him.

"I am," I said through clenched teeth, "It is not possible to keep them back any farther."

We'd been at this for what felt like hours. I was sweating beneath the cotton tunic and close fitting breeches I'd found lain out for me when I'd returned to my room after breakfast. How those wraiths knew what I had planned for the rest of the afternoon I did not know.

Cassian had lead me through a thoroughly embarrassing warm up round that had me huffing and red in the face: lunges, push ups, a series of jumping exercises that had me all too aware of my breasts. But Cassian had made no comment, hadn't leered at me as I expected him to do. He was everything a general should be, patient but brutal when necessary.

After that it was learning my stance. "I know perfectly well how to stand," I'd said, to which Cassian threw out an arm, pushing me hard in the shoulder and throwing me completely off balance. He smiled as if to say _See?_ I rubbed my shoulder. "Fine, show me then."

He squatted down and moved my left leg, his fingers gracing my thigh, the tender area behind my knee. "Left foot goes here." He did the same with my right leg. He stood and placed one hand on either side of me, squaring my shoulders. When he finally looked at me his face was tight, a faint tinge of pink on his tanned cheeks. He didn't seem to be breathing.

I'd opened my mouth to say something scathing but he'd merely shoved me again. This time, I kept my footing.

"Good," he said, circling around me, checking me for any weaknesses. "Much of the strength it takes to stay grounded comes from your core," he put a hand to the middle of his torso. He was wearing similar garb to my own and through his lightweight shirt I could make just make out the sharp lines of the strong muscles on the plane of his chest. He reached out, hand angling toward my stomach, but I backpedaled from his touch.

"I know where my core is."

I had the feeling that if one of his subordinates had spoken to him like that he would have thrown them off the roof, but he'd merely said, "Fine. Now we work on breathing."

It was slow, maddeningly tedious. I wanted to punch and hit, I wanted to fight. I'd said as much as we worked our way through a seemingly unending breathing exercise.

"You have strength, Nesta, but no control," he said in a low, serious voice, "If you wish to win occasionally, you must have control. Unfiltered rage and strength of will may have been enough to win your battles for you in the human realm but it will only get you so far here."

He paused his speech to study my face, carefully searching for the desire to give up. "The people you are up against have had hundreds and hundreds of year of practice doing what I'm trying to teach you- you must learn control."

"Well I suppose if you can learn all of this it can't be too difficult."

For all his talk of control something in him snapped. His leg swung out and, even though my feet were still placed exactly where he'd put them, I fell backwards onto the stone deck.

"Get up," he said, his voice a low rumble, "You wanted to fight, so get up. Fight me."

I lunged at him.

He danced away easily. "Control," he teased.

I roared. My fingers were curved into claws and I swiped at his face, at his eyes.

"Keep your shoulders back when you attack." He sidestepped me and I whirled. This time I didn't even stop to think as I threw all my weight behind my right fist. He caught it easily, and was ready when I made a desperate attempt with my left.

"See," he said, pulling me close to his face, "I have total control now because you have none." His hands were like shackles around my wrists. He brought his face down to mine. "And next time, keep you damn shoulders back."

He released me and took a step back, readying himself. "Again."

My muscles were screaming as I lowered myself into a hot bath later that night. I hadn't even had to call for the servants to draw up the bath for me, it had been waiting for me in the bathing chamber as soon as I came down, the water still hot.

Cassian had not been how I expected him to be today while training. When Rhysand had said Cassian would be in charge of my training I thought he wouldn't take it, or me, seriously. But he did take me seriously. He had made me run certain drills over and over to get them right not because he was being a prick, but because he truly wanted to help me learn to do these things.

I had never been laid so bare before another, allowing them to not only assess my weaknesses and vulnerabilities, but to also correct them.

Elain had asked me all about my training when I entered our rooms, but I hadn't really told her much besides the fact that I was sore. I trusted her, of course, but I just didn't know how to explain it in a way she could relate to; she only offered to make me a salve with some plants she'd discovered to soothe the ache.

I scrubbed at myself with a bit of hard soap that smelled of honey and lavender. I dunked my head under the water, my hair fanning out around me. I moaned with pleasure at the weightlessness the water gave my body. I thought I might never get out, just stay in here and let the world happen around me.

The soap slipped out of my hand under the water, and I opened my eyes to locate it- but when I opened my eyes I was not in the bathing chamber any longer. I was in a courtyard, walled in by towering ivy-shrouded walls. The sun was blinding and the air was thick with the scent of blossoming flowers; bird calls floated on a mild breeze. I turned on my spot and saw a fountain and, seated on its rim-

"Feyre?" I said.

She was gliding a hand over the water, letting her fingers graze the surface. The water seemed to respond to her touch, and sparkled in her fingers' wake.

"Feyre?" I breathed, but still she did not turn. I was right in front of her now. Feyre's face was tranquil, a placid smile on her face, and yet there was something cunning rippling underneath her features. She was up to something.

There was the sound of a door opening, footsteps down a set of stairs. We both turned and saw a golden haired fae coming towards us. He was dressed for battle, the baldric strapped across his chest lined with blades.

Tamlin.

I bared my teeth at him in a snarl, but he took no notice of me. I reached out to grab Feyre, we had to get out of here. But when my hand connected with Feyre's shoulder it passed through her as if I were made of nothing but smoke.

 _The nightingale laments in her tower._

I took a step back, the voice ringing in my head. I'd heard that voice before; it was both familiar and strange, a part of me and yet so ancient and untouchable.

Tamlin took a seat beside Feyre on the fountain's edge, nuzzling his head in the space between Feyre's shoulder and neck. I could see how it strained her, but Tamlin took no notice of her rigid back, the clenched knuckles.

"We have to go to the Western border," Tamlin was saying. "The King has need of us."

 _Spring expands but trails death in its wake._

I saw a shadow on the horizon, a gathering of clouds, a promise of discord. I wanted to cry out, to warn Feyre-

But I suddenly found myself back in the bathing chamber, sitting in a hot, steamy bath. There was water all over the floor as if I'd been splashing; I was panting and clutching my chest. I must have been so tired I'd fallen asleep without even noticing.

But that was unlike any dream I'd ever had before. Everything had been so clear, so tangible. I'd been able to make out the veins on the flowers' petals, to feel the heat of the springtime sun on my flesh, I had been able to read the expression on my sister's face, that face which I knew so well. From the way she'd had that serene smile planted on her lips, to the way her blue-grey eyes were more hooded than I'd ever seen them, to the way her body had gone rigid for the most imperceptible moment when Tamlin came down those stairs. I'd never seen Feyre like that and it made no sense for my mind to conjure up such images in sleep.

What had I been seeing then?

"Nesta, Nesta are you alright? It's only, I heard quite a bit of splashing."

"Yes," I said quickly, "I just slipped, that's all."

The door opened a crack and Elain's pale face poked around the door frame, her eyes glowing and her cheeks pink. She had been in the gardens with Mor all day. "Well can you hurry up then, I'm covered in dirt and need to bathe before supper."

"I'm getting out now," I said. The door clicked shut and I stood from the bath, water dripping off me. I reached for a towel and wrapped myself in the warm cotton. I was overcome with a feeling of unsteadiness and I had to brace myself against the sink. I met my own eyes in the mirror, and I could have sworn I saw wisps of smoke swirling in them like the last tendrils of an extinguished candle. I stepped sharply back from the mirror and shook my head.

"Get it together," I told myself.

I was so tired. So utterly worn out from today's training session I didn't know if I would have the energy to lift a fork to my mouth. But I feared Cassian would see it as a sign of weakness if I didn't show up, so I let Elain have the bath and pulled on the softest clothes I could find to wear to supper.

I hadn't told anyone about my dream. Bringing up Feyre had a sobering effect on all of us, like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

The one person I may have told, Elain, was so busy herself that I barely saw her. She spent most of her day in the gardens or in the kitchen mixing poultices and drying herbs. Even though at the end of the night her fingers were as stained and cracked as a laundress', her cheeks were flush with pride, her eyes bright with excitement for the next day's work.

I, too, had settled into some semblance of a routine. It was the strangest, most exhausting routine I'd ever had, but it gave me the comfort of normalcy. After breakfast Cassian and I would train for an hour in hand to hand combat. Then he'd send me down to the library to read, saying it was just as important to have a sharp mind as a sharp blade. Lunch came next, sometimes it was a sit-down affair with Rhysand and Mor joining us, other times it was a rushed sandwich eaten as Cassian herded me up the stairs for an afternoon of weapons practice.

Today we were working on the bow in cold, drizzly spring weather. The fog sat heavy over the river and the city was covered in a sparkling mist, making the shop windows look warm and inviting.

"I said," Cassian snarled, "Relax your bow ar-." I let the arrow fly before he finished the sentence and he huffed a laugh as I missed my mark by quite a bit.

I hadn't hit a single thing this morning.

Cassian opened his mouth to point out something else I was doing wrong, but before he could speak Rhysand skidded onto the roof a few feet from us.

His voice was strong, commanding, but still wobbled when he said, "I have news from Feyre." He didn't even come to a complete stop before his wings were tucked carefully behind him and he was through the door into the house.

Cassian and I exchanged a look full of questions before we dropped our bows and followed Rhysand into the house. Cassian let me descend the stairs before him, stopping to make sure the door was locked tight against the outside. He seemed to be unable to keep his wings still, as if looking for any sign of failed strength, and reason they couldn't be used.

We rushed into the sitting room where the heat of the fire sank over me like a bath.

Mor was already there, flanked by two figures. I recognized Azriel with his towering build and Illyrian wings, the way the shadows in the room seemed to flock to him like obedient pets. The other I did not know.

She was shorter than Mor, petite, and plain in both her face and dress; her hair was inky and chin length, her eyes a steely grey. And yet the others seemed to lean away from her, and as I entered the room I felt it: her power radiated off her like a blockade, and I knew that any who dared crash against it would be sent into oblivion.

"You're not fae," I said.

"You're observant," she said, eyeing me, her tone sincere. Her words had a sharpness to them, and honesty, but she wasn't making fun of me. The mortals believed that the fae couldn't tell a lie (which, even if Feyre hadn't told us wasn't true I would have garnered on my own after Cassian had claimed that he had once bedded an entire brothel and the whores had offered to pay him), but I had the sense that this female truly couldn't tell a lie, if only because she had no use for anything but honesty.

"What are you then?"

"Something...else."

"Amren, Nesta. Nesta, Amren. There, now that everyone is introduced, can we finish this later?" Rhysand said. His hands were in his pockets but his voice was strained.

As one, Amren and I glowered at Rhysand. I could have sworn he almost staggered a bit.

"The King of Hybern has called them to the western border."

"But we knew that would happen," Mor said.

"He's also convened the other high lords," Rhysand said. He picked at the lapel of his jacket. "My invitation seems to have been lost."

"He's trying to win the other courts over to his side," Cassian said.

"And with the Savior of Prythian behind him," Azriel continued-

"Autumn will serve him," Mor said bitterly, cutting him off.

"And Winter could follow. Autumn borders it to the south, and Hybern to the West."

"If Winter joins him then Summer may submit as well. Their court feels it suffered a great slight at our hands," Azriel said.

It was as if they shared one consciousness. Their thoughts flowing so easily between them. I was reminded that the five of them had been doing this, working together, for a very long time.

"And Feyre will be our confederate," I said.

They all turned me.

"Yes," Rhysand said. "She will attempt to bolster support for us in secret, to draw allies to our cause-the mortal cause." Rhysand paused. "There's more. Tamlin's armies are on the move. They're positioned at the northern and southern borders.

 _Spring expands but trails death in its wake._

The words echoed through my mind, blaring like a death knell, I had heard them before when I had dreamed of Feyre.

Elain bustled into the room balancing a tray on her hip. "Nesta," she chirped, "I made tea and had the cook fix us some muffins-" she stopped abruptly, as she took all of us in. "Oh, I didn't realize there would be company," she said slowly. When her eyes met Amren's the teacups started to rattle in their saucers.

Mor hurried over and took the tray from her, "We were just discussing news from Feyre," she said gently to Elain.

Elain took a long steadying breath. I could see the panic at getting involved and the loyalty to our family warring in her. She looked around the room as if she would find some guidance from the assembled fae. It was Azriel's face she lingered on the longest. Whatever she found in those dark, intense had her squaring her shoulders. "Tell me."

As Rhysand filled her in I stole a glance at Cassian- his face was tight and focused solely on his High Lord. Elain put her hand over her mouth. I fought the urge to tell Rhysand that he had told her enough, but it was then that Elain said, "What can we do to help?"

"Feyre continues to send me messages through the bond; we will have enough intelligence to prepare for an attack either on the Night Court or on the mortal realm."

"How do we get her back?"

"I"m working on that," Rhysand said grimly.

Elain nodded. "We'll fight this together. We will bring her home, I'll help however I can." She met my eyes and I was amazed at the determination I saw there. What a change this place had wrought on her already. Her sweet disposition was still there, but in these weeks she had been building a trench around the garden of her heart.

Mor laid an arm on Elain's shoulder and squeezed gently. There were tears brimming in her brown eyes. In _both_ their eyes.

Cassian nudged Rhysand as well. "Buck up man, the moon got the nightingale back, you will too."

"What did you say?" I stood.

"Just a bit of old fae lore," Cassian said.

 _The nightingale laments in her tower._

"Tell me." My hands were shaking.

 _Nightingale, nightingale, nightingale._

"In the days of creation the nightingale once sang during the day and at night, but as time went on she began to sing only at night," Cassian said. "The sun became jealous and tried to capture the nightingale, to force her to sing only for him. He locked her in a cage in the highest eastern tower so she could never see her love. But the nightingale was cunning, she sang a song only the moon could hear and together they tricked the sun into setting her free. The nightingale went back to the moon and she sang for him ever on."

"Why," Amren said, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"There's something I need to tell you," I said.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

They all stared at me. In the mortal realm they would have called me crazy; women who had visions were either sent away to asylums on the continent if they were lucky or hanged if they were not. But they were not looking at me in disbelief, rather their stares were in wonder and, in Rhysand's case, hope.

"I've heard stories of them before," Cassian said hurriedly.

"Ghost stories in an Illyrian camp after drinking your weight in alcohol aren't a credible source," Mor snapped.

"I heard rumors of one, but when I finally tracked her down it turned out she was nothing more than an actress making coin by traveling village to village," Rhysand said.

"When you've all finished talking about me as if I'm not even here perhaps you'll enlighten me as to what the hell you're talking about. One _what_?"

"Soothsayer," Amren said blunty, picking at her nails.

I looked from her face to the rest of the room, and for the first time since I had been Made, for the first time in who knows how long, I laughed. "You're all out of your minds. A fortune teller?"

I looked around pleadingly, waiting for anyone to tell me this was a joke. "Elain, you don't believe this, do you?"

"Is that why-" she paused, "Is that why you were thrashing in the bath?"

I shot a withering glance in her direction. There was no way I was a _soothsayer-_ that sort of thing was a ridiculous sham. I remembered the women who sometimes came into the village square during market day with their long skirts and fly away hair. They peddled their wares: a coin for a blessing, two to have the lines on the palm of your hand read, three for them to pour you a cup of tea and read the dregs. The fortunes were always the same. _You will find your one true love_. _You will receive great riches_. Such hogwash. I'd prevented Elain from wasting our coin on such impersonators numerous times; Feyre had always had the sense to stay well away from their stalls.

"How is this possible?" Mor said.

"You saw her fighting against the Cauldron, can you imagine what she made it give her?" Cassian said, huffing a laugh.

Mor rolled her eyes.

Rhysand said, "It would make sense." He paused, and in that pause he seemed to ponder a great deal. "Yes, I think the Cauldron did give you more than just immortal life. You mentioned a voice, Nesta. I think that voice is the Cauldron itself. In your Making you somehow," he chose his next word carefully, "bonded with it. You seem to be able to tap into its powers. The Cauldron is creation itself; it is the beginning and end of time, the past, present, and future. If you took just a sliver of that power with you when you were Made," he trailed off, not even daring to voice the implications.

"And if she took a piece of the Cauldron's power with her, perhaps it weakened the damned thing," Amren ventured. "Perhaps she can use the Cauldron's power against it."

Rhysand considered her for a few seconds, I could practically see his mind whirring with the possibilities. He turned to me, "Perhaps you'll come in useful after all, Nesta."

My hands curled into fists and a growled escaped from my throat. Just as I was about to retort Cassian cut me off. "Don't be an ass, Rhys." He was leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, the picture of nonchalance, yet his teeth were bared and I could see his elongated canines. He was just a general defending his soldier, I told myself.

Rhysand merely chucked. "It's clear, Nesta, that you have no control over these visions. Obviously we can't have you passing out in any more bathtubs. Amren?"

"Yes," she purred.

"Anything to add?"

She crossed her legs, the gesture almost prim. The leather armchair she sat in nearly engulfed her small frame. She shrugged, "I think she's a Soothsayer."

Rhysand sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Anything _new_ to add?"

"You've met the Bonecarver, Rhysand, did you ever wonder how he learned his craft? He claimed he'd learned it all from a mighty Soothsayer."

"The Bonecarver is a Soothsayer?" Rhysand asked, taking a step back.

"No," Amren said sharply, "He is something else, but he learned to hone his skill from a gifted one, one that the Bonecarver claimed walked hand in hand with the Cauldron itself."

"And where is that Soothsayer now?" Cassian said. He was ready to set out immediately to find this Soothsayer if necessary; he'd drag him back to Velaris in pieces if he had to. Cassian was ready for action-a mission-of any kind.

"I don't know," Amren said, "We weren't exactly friends. The last of the Soothsayers were exterminated long ago." Her voice was an amused drawl, eyes flicking between Rhysand and Cassian.

"Why would someone have them killed?" Rhysand asked.

"Do you think that someone who taught the _Bonecarver_ a thing or two was a kind person?" She chuckled lightly, "Do you know what men fear more than death?" She waited, looking intently into his eyes. Finally, Rhysand shook his head. Her eyes sparkled as she said, "Knowledge."

From the fireplace Azriel muttered, "One can do terrible things with knowledge and foresight."

Cassian shook his head, "Wouldn't the Soothsayers be protected at all cost? The

benefits of having someone who could see the future…" he trailed off in thought.

"You're thinking of them like stationary objects," Amren interjected, "But what if your opponent could see the attack you were going to make, before you made it? Even you, Cassian, could be bested in such a situation."

I nearly snorted, thinking of how I had already bested Cassian in the manor all those months ago. He smirked at me, his eyes gleaming and I knew he was remembering the same moment. I smirked back as if to say, _I don't need special powers to beat you_. His gaze was unrelenting, and I could see his mind working out what special torture he would brew up for tomorrow's lessons.

"Could these Soothsayers see the outcomes on a larger scale? Change the battle plan for an entire army based on their foreseen result?" Mor said.

"It's possible," Amren said. "The limitations and boundaries of the Soothsayers' powers is a mystery, if it was studied it was never recorded. My information comes from legends and myths, just like yours. It's possible each Soothsayer has a specialty, just like each high lord commands a specific element. It's possible that a Soothsayer that was Made could have the potential to master all facets of the power."

"Enough," I said. "All this conjecturing is useless. _It's possible_ ," I spat. But Rhysand's words raged through me, _Perhaps you'll come in useful after all, Nesta._ With the way my training was going with Cassian it would be years, _years_ , before they would trust me on the battlefield. By then the tide of this war could have been irrevocably altered. If I mastered this power, if I tested its boundaries, well perhaps I could be useful. I straightened and said, "We won't know anything for certain until we test these," I choked out the word, "powers."

Rhysand let out a chuckle that was positively vicious. "I have just the experiment."

"No," I said flatly.

"What?" Rhysand said. His wings were unfurled behind him; they flapped once in the breeze.

"You are _not_ flying me up there." I gestured to the House of Wind, that fortress built into the mountainside towering over us.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and before I could protest he lunged at me. Even with my immortal speed he was faster. He slid one arm behind my knees and the other under my shoulders and we launched into the sky.

My scream was drowned out by the roaring of wind in my ears as we soared up towards the house. I stiffened in his arms, afraid that my slightest movement would have us plummeting back towards the rooftops of Velaris, but the pounding of Rhysand's wings was sturdy and we ascended in sweeping drifts of wind.

Faster than I anticipated, Rhysand landed us gently on the open terrace of the house. He set me down on the cold marble floor and I staggered a bit; my heart was racing, but I realized that it was not pounding in fear, rather, in exhilaration.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a rush such as that. I'd known fear. When I'd hired that missionary to take me to the Wall, when I saw Elain's head dip below the contents of the Cauldron, when the collectors had come to the cabin, the first night we had gone hungry. I'd felt excitement before too. My stolen kisses with Thomas Mandray, the first time I'd been fitted for a ballgown-they didn't compare. Flying in Rhysand's arms this time, again taking in the sprawling city that was becoming more familiar to me, I'd felt a flux of joy and amusement that was altogether foreign to me. I braced myself against the bannister and attempted to quash the laughter bubbling in my throat and the gnawing at my stomach begging for _more, more, more_.

"Don't you ever do that again," I snarled at Rhysand.

Rhysand turned on me. "I'll do what it takes to get the answers I want, Nesta. I have

no time for useless arguments."

"What answers?" I demanded, as he opened up the doors into an elaborate sitting room. He blocked me from going inside.

Just then the door across the hall opened and Cassian emerged- his face was flush and his shoulders were heaving; he looked frantically around and when he spotted us through the crack in the door he came over immediately.

"You're late," Rhysand said with an air of impatience.

"Late," Cassian gasped, clutching his side, "Late for what?"

And that was when Rhysand pushed me over the balcony.

I was weightless. The last clear image in my mind was the wicked twinkle in Rhysand's violet eyes before his hand shot out and slammed against my chest. This was fear. I was falling from a balcony in the clouds. It felt like an invisible string was tugging at me, reeling me in like a fish.

I twisted in the air as the wind ripped at me. My eyes watered and I opened my mouth but my scream was silenced, swallowed up by the mountain air.

I willed myself to tap into that power that I didn't yet understand, to find it and save myself- and then kill Rhysand. Panic flooded me as I attempted to reach within myself and found nothing, there was no voice. The only vision I saw was that of me splattering on the cobblestones below. Could my immortal body survive even this? Something primal and ancient in me screamed at me that it could not, would not.

Just as I had the thought something solid slammed into me. I caught the briefest scent of leather before I-we-jerked upwards. I heard the booming of wings-Illyrian wings.

I turned my head and saw Cassian. He was looking down at me, rage and relief warring in his features. The sun shone through the muscle and sinew, and illuminated the scars, terrible welts and pockmarks, reminders of what he had endured.

Cassian's hand brushed against my cheek. "Nesta," he said.

His touch was like a knock to the head. I felt myself go limp, and my vision blurred.

"Nesta." Cassian shook me and I had the barest sense that we jerked wildly in the air, and then my world went dark.

 _I was a spectre. A body without a body, a shadow. I was in a grim, muddy camp. The edges of my vision were blurred, the people moving throughout the camp were obscured, out of focus. Everything was cast in a film of gray._

 _I was surrounded by shelters that looked like they had been erected haphazardly. This was a war camp. I moved through the tents and lean-tos._

 _And then there he was, a younger Cassian, sprawled in the dirt and bleeding. A few older men with wings peeking over their shoulders watched him struggle to stand again. I could see the fear in Cassian's eyes; his arms shook as he forced himself to his knees._

" _Bastard," one of the older men said, "Can't even get out of the dirt."_

" _Worthless," said another, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at Cassian._

 _Cassian stared at them both with determination etched on his face; he stood on shaking legs and spat blood at their feet._

 _He was more wild animal than child. His hair was matted and his clothing was so tattered it was little more than rags. I'd once called Feyre a half wild beast. Maybe this was what survival looked like._

 _The first man chuckled, "Well, it looks like you've still got some fight in you."_

 _Cassian said nothing; he just glared at them, challenging them to do their worst._

 _They advanced, fists raised._

 _And then the setting changed. Cassian was curled up under a threadbare blanket, his only protection from the rain coming down in sheets around him._

 _Another Illyrian child was standing above him, a child with black hair and violet eyes. Rhysand. He kicked Cassian's boot. "Come on, bastard, let's get you something to eat?"_

 _The world flickered again. I was in another camp in a grassy lowland. Cassian was on his hands and knees before me, behind a tent and out of sight. He was older now. His shoulders heaved as he was sick over and over. His leather armor was covered in blood, so dark it was nearly black. His sword lay discarded in the sand, the blade slick with gore._

 _Cassian trembled. His cheeks were damp with tears._

 _Rhysand knelt down beside him, a mirror image of Cassian's blood soaked self. "It gets easier," Rhysand said softly, "You learn to separate that part of yourself, it doesn't define who you are."_

 _And then Cassian was on a battlefield, roaring and swinging his sword, a warrior incarnate._

 _He was sitting quietly in an armchair reading a book by the fireplace-_

 _He was naked, hovering above a golden haired female, Mor, I realized before the vision split again and Cassian was-_

 _Then there he was, in our manor, meeting Elain and I for the first time- eyes open wide with wonder and sparkling with challenge._

"Nesta."

"Give her space."

There was a growl and the sound of a brief but fierce scuffle.

I opened my eyes. My head was clear and my vision was becoming sharp again. I was laying prone on the floor of the balcony, too weak to so much as lift my head. Cassian knelt beside me, he had one hand on the knife at his belt. The other was holding mine.

Rhysand strolled towards us, keeping a healthy distance from Cassian. His hands were in his pockets but his shoulders were tense. When he reached us he stopped and looked down at me.

"So Nesta," he began, "What did you see?"

"You bastard," Cassian spat, "She could have died, I could have died- or lost the ability to fly ever again."

Rhysand shrugged. "Nesta's powers only seem to work at moments of great duress or exhaustion so I engineered such a moment."

"And why drag me into it?"

"Because you were afraid to use your wings again, so I created a situation where you would feel compelled to fly."

"Fuck you," I panted, barely able to get the words out. I attempted to lift myself off the ground but my shoulders shook with the effort. Cassian reached down and heaved me up. I braced myself against him. I would think about the fact that Cassian had been willing to sacrifice himself for me later.

Rhysand's eyes flicked to me, "I told you I had no time for unanswered questions."

"You've lost your mind, Rhys," Cassian said. "This isn't you."

His eyes softened but his voice was like ice when he spoke to Cassian, "I've lost my mate," he said slowly, "I will do what is necessary."

I could feel the strength returning to my limbs, my mind had stopped spinning. I pushed off of Cassian, but he didn't let me go until I proved I could stand on my own. I could feel the ghost of his touch on my hips as I advanced toward Rhysand.

"Do not ever," I said, "Do anything like that again. You could have killed us both."

I was practically touching noses with him; I wanted him to see the silent promise behind my words. The promise that if he ever did that again I would find a way to end him. He merely smirked down at me.

"I have no time to coddle an Illyrian who won't fly. I have no time to train a spoiled, undisciplined brat who cares for nothing but herself."

"We are on the same side, Rhys," Cassian growled at him.

Rhysand's mouth twisted and he began to say something, but before I knew what I was doing my I had balled my hand into a fist and my knuckles connected with Rhysand's jaw. A textbook punch, one that I had practiced with Cassian for hours on end, and one that Rhysand should have been able to easily dodge I realized.

Rhysand merely stood there, he hadn't even staggered at the blow. He raised his hand to his jaw line and gently prodded where my fist had hit hardest. The edge in his eyes dulled; he took in Cassian and I with an expression that was something like regret but he kept silent. I took a step back and surveyed him. "So this is the man who captured my sister's heart. What would Feyre say, Rhysand, if she could see what you're becoming?" I knew the effect of Feyre's name would hurt Rhysand more than any physical blow I would ever land on him. I turned on my heel and made my way back to the edge of the balcony where Cassian stood, mouth agape. "Cassian," I said, "Let's go."

Cassian looked at Rhysand, as if waiting for a counter order from his High Lord, but when none came he pulled me closer and scooped me into his arms; he walked to the edge of the terrace, and his wings snapped open like great sails.

Cassian's body was vibrating whether with excitement to fly again or with trepidation I did not know. I squeezed his hand, not able to say the words _I trust you_ , but hoping the gesture was enough. Cassian looked at the sky, enormous wings rustling in the breeze. He sighed a long sigh and a small smile played on his lips.

I took one last glimpse at Rhysand, who met my gaze with an unflinching stare even as Cassian shot us into the sky. Rhysand's figure grew smaller and smaller, until he was nothing more than a speck on the mountain side.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Cassian set me down on the cobblestones on a side road just on the outskirts of the city. Our flight down had been erratic; he'd had trouble navigating the air currents and updrafts and we'd careened through the air before he'd righted himself several times. Cassian didn't seem to trust his wings, like using them was no longer second nature, like he was afraid of hurting them again.

I wondered how long Cassian had been cleared to fly for. Rhysand had said that Cassian was afraid to fly. And yet he had taken to the skies for me, to save me. Oh Rhysand had conducted quite the efficient experiment indeed, but I'd be damned if I told him what I saw.

I looked at the Fae male before me. I had seen his past, I'd seen pain, bloodshed, shame, desire-his most secret and intimate of moments had been lain bare before me to examine. What would he think if he knew what I'd seen? I hadn't controlled where the visions took me, and yet it still felt like a violation of his mind.

Before Cassian could ask me any questions about what I'd seen I put my hands on my hips and said, "Why haven't you been flown before today?"

He maintained eye contact with me but didn't respond.

I rose a brow. Fine. We both had our secrets. "Your master is a prick," I said.

"Rhys has his reasons for doing the things he does." I cut Cassian a scathing look and he hurriedly added, "Oh, he is absolutely a prick. You have to understand, Nesta, that Rhys is the most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian. The Fae are primal creatures; we all have beasts lurking under our skins. The mating bond is one of our basest and strongest instincts. When a High Fae loses a mate, well, they usually go insane." Cassian shrugged. "The fact that Rhys hasn't stormed the Spring Court at the front of his armies is a testament to his strength. I've known Rhys for hundreds of years, he's my brother, and if he needs to...vent, then I'm happy to be the outlet."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Well that makes one of us."

"I'll be sure to tell him that you have officially resigned from your outlet duties." He shook his black hair out behind him. He looked more like himself than he had since I came to Velaris. Though there were still dark shadows under his eyes and his face had the sunken appearance of someone who lost a great deal of weight very quickly there was some new luster about him. I thought that if every Fae had a beast lurking beneath their skin then Cassian's had been awakened by the wind and the sky.

"Do you want to go home?" Cassian said and then corrected himself. "I mean, to the town house."

"No," I said quickly.

"You look quite tired," Cassian said, his full lips quirking into a smirk. A challenge.

"Well you weren't just pushed off the side of a mountain," I said.

"Did you see anything?" Cassian said somberly.

I cocked my head to the side and gave him my most saccharine smile, "Maybe if you tell me why you wouldn't fly before today I'll tell you if I saw anything."

He glowered at me, crossing his arms, mirroring my own combative stance.

"That's what I thought," I said.

Cassian tilted his head back somewhat and sniffed. He stiffened and his nostrils flared. His wild curls were unbound, whipping in the wind. When he looked at me again he was grinning broadly.

"Smell that?"

I would not sniff at the air like some kind of wild animal picking up a scent on the breeze. But even as I had the thought I smelled it: the sour tang of onions and garlic, the richness of butter and yeast that could only mean fresh bread, accompanied by the charred smokiness of roasted meat drifted on the afternoon air. This new sense of smell still took me by surprise from time to time.

"What is it?" I asked, sniffing the air again. My mouth was watering and I realized how hungry I was.

"Lunch."

We walked towards the swarming streets of Velaris; the path we were on became more well kept as we got closer to the city, the cobblestones became straight and even. I halted as we rounded the corner and the city was sprawled out before me. More smells began to mingle with that of our lunch- spices I couldn't name that came in small vials and some that came in giant baskets. There were small white flowers that hung off the stem like the full skirts of a ball gown and scented the air with a sweet, musky perfume. People-faeries-milled about in groups, shopping and haggling with vendors who were also fae. Most were not High Fae like Cassian, Mor, and Rhys. No, there were faeries with skin like scales, faeries with fangs made to shred flesh, faeries with long spindly limbs and hard outer skin that reminded me of the beetles that plagued Elain's gardens.

The mortal heart inside me bleated with a mixture of fear and revulsion. I fought back a shudder. This was a mistake. How was I supposed to walk through this marketplace like a citizen of this city when hundreds of years of animosity were coursing through me?

"No one in this city means you harm, Nesta," Cassian said at my side.

He read me so easily, saw through me with such clarity it made me all the more obstinate. I drew myself up to my full height and said with all the imperiousness I could muster, "As if I would be afraid of such faerie filth."

"It's attitudes like that that have divided our worlds for hundreds of years."

"Good," I snapped back, refusing to drop his gaze.

His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything as he looked away from me and gestured me forward with a sweep of his arm.

I swept past him, my skirts swishing behind me. I heard him chuckle darkly but I merely trudged on, allowing my senses to lead me towards the scent of the food that had set my stomach growling so fiercely.

I kept my eyes trained ahead of me, determined to see as little of the city as possible, but out of my periphery I saw shops and stalls and musical troupes on the sides of the street tuning their instruments. I'd never been in a city-fae or human. There were cities on the continent but I'd never had any desire to stray so far into the world; my place was at my home; first in our manor, then in the hovel. While Feyre went out to provide for our family I had stayed home to protect it.

Though they were faint I made out the vestiges of the attack on the city, made possible by the information garnered from the mortal queens. There were the more tangible traces: empty storefronts, deep scratch marks along wooden doorframes, broken gates and fences being repaired. And then there the less obvious ones: the way the denizens of the city huddled and spoke in hushed voices, the tears on the face of a faerie as she purchased a bouquet of flowers, the nervous glances nearly everyone shot towards the glistening harbor and the sea beyond.

"This place had been untouched for thousands of years," Cassian said, catching up with me.

I huffed. The mortal lands had been ravaged from the moment the treaty was struck. We had never been safe from the fae. "Maybe that's why it came so close to falling. When you never have to fight for anything it makes you weak."

I felt more than saw Cassian give me a long look. "And what is it that you fight for, Nesta?"

"I fight for my family," I started, but Cassian interrupted me.

"Your family?" He huffed, "Rhys told me about all those nights Feyre spent out in the cold so that your family could survive."

My vision blurred and I could feel the venom on my tongue as I said, "No one _asked_ Feyre to do those things- my father should have taken care of us."

"But he didn't," Cassian responded sharply, "And you were willing to let you all starve

to prove that your father was weak."

I stepped back as his words washed over me. His words were so icy that I could feel the chill of them under my skin.

"I didn't have some high lord's son and wife to take me in unlike you."

Cassian stilled. "What did you just say?"

"Not all of us had the privilege of being rescued," I said quietly, turning my head away from him.

"Rhys' _mother_ helped me. She grew up as an Illyrian female, she knew bastards didn't survive in the camps. Rhys wanted nothing to do with me," he paused, his entire body taut, as he continued, "It was kindness and empathy that caused Rhys' mother to take me in; she helped me survive and be stronger so I could fight. I became a better man because of her." He stopped suddenly to look at me, his expression shifting from indignation to puzzlement. I could tell he was sifting through his memories, trying to recall all of our conversations, all of our interactions. "How did you-" he started, but didn't finish as a look of comprehension spread across his features.

I couldn't look him in the face. The shame of telling him what I'd seen when Rhysand pushed me off the balcony burned too hotly in my cheeks. And maybe it was the flush in his cheeks and the sorrow in his eyes, but I whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said quietly, "You can't control what you see-" he paused for a moment, "But it isn't very polite to use that information during an argument, you know." Cassian looped his arm through mine and we continued on our path. "But now that you know all of my embarrassing secrets it's only fair that you share one of yours with me."

I considered him for a moment before I answered, "I'm afraid of fish."

"Fish?" Cassian's voice was level but his shoulders shook with restrained laughter.

I shrugged, "The village boys always told me that they would bite my toes off, and I've never been swimming so I never knew if they were lying or not."

"Well I suppose they're not entirely wrong," Cassian said with mischief in his eyes, "In Prythian there are all kinds of water beasts that would love nothing better than to bite your toes off."

I shuddered.

"Don't worry, when I teach you how to swim I won't let them take your toes."

"When you teach me how to swim," I said slowly.

"Every good soldier should know how. It can be a lifesaving skill to have."

"I've managed so far without it," I said.

"Fine," he said, looking at me with a wicked grin, "But if you don't learn you'll never know what it's like to swim without your clothes on." We paused our walking for a moment as he turned towards me, "Swimming with no clothes on," he said leaning slightly towards me, "Feels a bit like flying."

I held his gaze intently, I wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of catching me off guard. His jaw was sent into half a smirk as his eyes danced with laughter. I found myself watching his ebony hair tossing in the wind, the ends tickling his neck as they moved. I clenched my fists to keep from reaching up and brushing away the stray strands of hair obscuring his eyes- my fingernails leaving small crescent moon shapes on my sweaty palms from where they dug in.

"We will take it slow," he said, breaking my gaze and steering my back down the path.

"When I learn how to swim I would never swim naked, let alone with you."

He chuckled, "Still the well bred lady, aren't you, Nesta?"

I didn't respond to this; I _had_ always prided myself on decorum and finery- but in this new body I wasn't sure who I was. Flying with Rhysand for the first time had been such an exhilarating experience- maybe Cassian was telling the truth about swimming. As we walked closer to the city, the river coursing through the heart of it captured my attention. The breeze brought the cool of the water and washed it right over my face; I began to imagine what it would feel like to have the smooth, cold water caressing the unseen parts of me.

Cassian was right, not knowing how to swim was a weakness. I remembered watching the fathers in the village teaching their children how to swim in the shallow, murky pond. How the men held their children's bodies aloft as they grew accustomed to the sensation of floating. I imagined Cassian's strong, capable hands on stomach, on my waist, supporting my body's weight in the water, steadying me.

I barely noticed where Cassian had dragged me until we were in front of a shop where the smell of rich food wafted above the heads of the waiting crowd.

"I've been dreaming of Baltazar's hot pies for weeks." Cassian said, gesturing towards the shop.

We stepped up behind the last faerie in line.

"What's on the menu?" Cassian said.

She turned to around to us and said, "Lamb today, dears." She had a melodious voice that was so intoxicating it made me sway. She wore a small golden lyre at her hip and I had no doubt that if she were to sing while playing that instrument it would be near impossible to not do her bidding

Cassian swore. "Lamb's everyone's favorite." He craned his neck in an attempt to see around the line, his lips muttering. I realized he was attempting to count the number of people in the line. He swore again. "It's been an age since I was up early enough to get one of Baltazar's hot pies." He nudged me in the side, "If you care to tap into your powers maybe you could see if there will be any left by the time we get to the front of the line."

I rolled my eyes at him, "There isn't anything to push me off of this time to make it work," I said smirking.

"Did you just make a joke?" he asked covering his mouth with his hand, feigning surprise.

"Don't get used to it."

The line moved achingly slow. Cassian bobbed up and down continuously, as anxious as I had ever seen him.

"You look ridiculous," I said, watching his rise up on his toes to look over the line, "They're just pies. This can't be the only place in the entire city to get lunch. That looks like a restaurant just around the corner, there." I pointed to a small establishment, whose owner was looking at the queue on the other side of the street dejectedly. "They can't possibly be worth all this fuss."

They were.

"I was wrong," I said, licking my fingers, trying to get every morsel off my skin. "I'm sorry."

"Two apologies in one day," Cassian mused. He was licking the paper the pie had been wrapped in.

Baltazar was a squat fae male with a horsey face and baker's hands that were gnarled and burned. His gruff assistant had taken our order and when Cassian had tried to order four pies the assistant had pointed to a crudely made sign that read "one per customer."

"I always try to get more than one," Cassian had said to me out of the corner of his mouth, "it never works."

We'd sat in silence at a nearby bench facing the harbor, focused solely on consuming the pies. As soon as I'd finished mine I was willing to get back into the queue, but Baltazar's stall now had a sign on it that said "Closed," much to the chagrin of his still-waiting customers.

"We need to go back to the town house eventually," Cassian said. "I figure you and Rhys have had enough time to cool down by now. And I've always found it is nearly impossible to be angry at someone with a belly full of Baltazar's lamb pie."

He was right. Rhys and I did need to make peace, especially if I was to master this strange power, which I fully intended to do.

"Fine," I said. "On one condition."

Cassian raised a brow.

"We fly."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Cassian set me down gently on the roof. I staggered back a step as I acclimated to the feeling of walking again. I waited for him to snigger and already had a cutting remark on my lips, but he just reached out and softly braced my elbow.

A voice drawled from the darkness, "Have a nice excursion?" A ball of faelight came to life, illuminating the roof courtyard. Rhysand was sprawled on one of iron chaises, a crystal goblet in hand. There was an iron table next to him with two more goblets and a crystal decanter. He gestured to it. "My mother always said that the best way to apologize was over a shared glass of wine."

"Apologize?" I said.

He sighed through his nose, "An apology, it's when someone has done something wrong and attempts to make peace."

"I know what an apology is you prick."

He rose to his feet in one fluid movement and poured wine into the two goblets on the table.

He looked at Cassian first. "Brother," he said, "forgive me."

Cassian strode forward and clasped his forearm. I saw his fingers digging into the fabric of Rhysand's fitted overcoat as he said something to Rhysand so low I couldn't make it out. They pressed their foreheads together for a long moment. As they broke apart Rhysand turned his gaze to me and extended the last glass.

"I am sorry, Nesta," he began, looking me in my eyes, "We want the same things. It's time I started acting like it."

I considered him; his face was solemn and serious, but not cold. We _did_ want the same things: to build a safe place to live with our families, to keep the Wall in tact, and above all-revenge.

I felt that wall kept myself enshrined in become a little thinner as held his gaze. I had always kept myself so blocked off from others, never letting anyone in. But this battle was bigger than me, and I knew that I could not face it alone.

To both my surprise and Rhysand's I extended a hand and accepted his goblet. "Together then," I said as I raised my glass to the stars.

We clinked glasses and drank to our toast in silence; the only sound was the whistle through the snowy trees.

After what could have been minutes or hours Rhysand said suddenly, "Oh and Nesta, please start calling me Rhys."

Amren didn't even lift her eyes from where she sat, sprawled on the hardwood floor with manuscripts and parchment all around her.

Rhysand had suggested, and I agreed, that it would be more prudent for the strange non-fae to take over with my lessons.

I'd navigated on my own down the streets of Velaris with the hood of my cape pulled low over my face until I'd reached her flat on the top story of a modest looking building. When I knocked on the door Amren hadn't deigned to greet me at the door but had merely grunted an exasperated "Enter."

She pored over the script in her delicate hands, her eyes moving so fast they were nothing more than gray blurs.

"Good afternoon," I said, still trying to take in the disarray of parchment and scattered books. The rest of the flat was in a similar state of chaos: clothes were spilling from an ornate wardrobe, strewn across the gigantic four poster bed or in heaps on the floor; jewelry gleamed in piles on the nightstand, the kitchen table, and beside her, acting as a paperweight, was one of the biggest rubies I had ever seen. My eyes returned to her and I tried to read the titles on the dusty spines of the old books, but they were in languages I didn't understand.

"Sit," Amren said, gesturing vaguely with her slender arm without looking up from what she was reading.

I looked around for a chair. There wasn't one in sight. "Where?"

Amren looked up.

"You haven't any chairs," I said, surprised at the humble tone in my voice.

"What?" Amren said, she looked around and then chuckled darkly. "I got rid of them all last month, I forgot. When people see chairs they seem to think you indulge company. Sit on the floor, girl, it won't hurt you."

I took of my cloak and laid it carefully on a table heaped with books. If Rhysand or Cassian had hurled that order at me I would have remained standing out of spite, or perhaps dragged a chair in from another room. But even though they were both Illyrian trained males there was something more threatening lurking under Amren's skin, something that made me hold my tongue. So I swept my skirts around me and lowered myself cross-legged on the hard, dusty floor.

"What did you ask of the Cauldron?" Amren didn't even look up as she tossed one scroll aside and picked up another.

"I've already told you all about that." I didn't want to continue reliving the memory of the Cauldron for them; it inevitably forced me to revisit the preceding events in the throne room, all of the pain and the loss. Misery and suffering were weaknesses, and I had trained myself not to feel them long ago.

"You've told us what it felt like, yes. But what did you _ask_ of the Cauldron, it doesn't just give out gifts such as the one you received."

"I didn't _ask_ for anything," I said sharply, "You're making it sound like I brought all of this upon myself. I never wanted to be a fae, why would I ask to be even more of a-a freak."

"Like it or not," Amren said, raising an eyebrow as she finally met my gaze, "You are Fae. What did you ask of the Cauldron?"

I could feel the heat rising in my face. She was staring at me with amusement dancing in her eyes, as if she was waiting for me to lunge at her. I hadn't asked the Cauldron for a damn thing; as they'd lowered me down into its depths I'd only thought of Elain and my deep desire for revenge against the King of Hybern for all that he'd done.

"Well," Amren said impatiently.

"I didn't ask for anything," I snapped, "My only thoughts were of Elain and killing the one who gave the order to force me into the Cauldron."

"So you asked for capability to exact revenge," Amren said, sorting through the scrolls in front of her once more.

"I told you," I hissed through my teeth, "I didn't ask-"

Amren cut me off, "Well whether you asked or not, the Cauldron listened. Now we have a starting point- you wanted revenge and the Cauldron has blessed you with the skills it thinks necessary to get it."

I stared at her with my mouth slightly open, "You talk as if the Cauldron has plans of its own, like Hybern isn't in control of it."

"What makes you think it doesn't? The Cauldron's power is unfathomable. Anyone who thinks they can control it is a fool. Even the Book of Breathings and Feyre weren't enough to nullify its powers."

"How will my powers help if even Feyre couldn't stop it?" I asked.

"The legend says that only one who was Made could read the Book of Breathings to strip it of its power. Feyre was Made by the Seven High Lords. Perhaps only one Made from the Cauldron, one with a piece of the Cauldron inside themselves, can gain mastery over it. Of course, the opposite could also be true and the Cauldron could take possession of you." Amren picked up a gigantic tome and began to turn its fragile pages so carefully I thought they were apt to crumble in her hands.

The thought of the Cauldron being able to have access to me made me shudder. If it could make me see whatever it pleased it was possible it could make me do and think as it wished as well. I would not be its pawn. "What are all these books for anyway?"

"Trying to figure out exactly what you've become," she said, not looking up from her delicate task of flipping through old pages. "This one is the account from an alleged Soothsayer, but I think she was nothing more than a charlatan."

"How can you tell the difference between a true Soothsayer and a false one?" Rhys' court had believed me so quickly when I'd told them, yet Amren could tell from ancient words when someone wasn't a true Soothsayer.

She paused flipping through the tome and looked at me, "In this case, the female was simply adept at reading people; she had incredible powers of empathy and deduction. There are fae who can see glimpses of a person's past, or commune with spirits. There's even a breed of fae that live high up in the mountains in caves, drugging themselves with noxious gasses to induce visions. Soothsayers are different. A true Soothsayer can learn to control their sight, and their visions aren't limited to the past or future."

"But what causes these visions?" I thought of Cassian, and how when he had caught me from my free fall his memories blurred my vision and consumed my thoughts. "Cassian and I were touching when I saw his past, but the other time I was completely alone."

"Yes," Amren said, "You saw his _past_ when you touched him, not his future. Regardless of what anyone tells you, the future is never set in stone. A true Soothsayer wouldn't have made such proclamations. Soothsayers have gotten nasty reputations because they see not only people, but what makes these people who they are- and that is powerful knowledge. They were nearly wiped out because of that. No fae wants all of their desires and hopes and weaknesses laid bare before another person."

I thought of what I saw while I was in Cassian's arms; a bastard Illyrian left to fend for himself. He had nothing and he fought for everything, that survivor's will would always be a part of his identity. I considered Amren's words my knowledge of Cassian was so very intimate- and I realized that the power of a Soothsayer didn't come from predicting the future, but rather manipulating it themselves.

"So how do I control it?"

"That is what we have to figure out," Amren said, the slash of her mouth twisting into a smile. And I knew that if her methods were making her smile like that then I was in big trouble.

I jolted as Amren set a heavy book in front of me and pointed to a spot in the middle of the page. The writing was in a language I didn't recognize. There was a crude illustration of the silhouette of two people sitting cross-legged, holding hands.

I looked up at her, "What does it say?"

"It's the journal of one of the better known Soothsayers, taken from the personal library of Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court and the keeper of Prythian's knowledge."

Taken, or stolen I wondered.

Amren continued, "In this entry he writes of the clearing of the minds. The truth seeker sets an intention and empties their minds of all thought save for the answers they seek. The Soothsayer would then enter a state of deep concentration and somehow tap into that individual's consciousness and desires. Physical contact does not seem to be required, but helpful."

"So when Cassian caught me, I saw things because we were touching?"

Amren considered me for a moment, "Actually," she said, "I think you saw Cassian's thoughts because believe it or not your mind was quite open in that moment and his mind was set on one thought, one intention."

I twisted my hands in my lap. My mouth had gone dry. This power was becoming larger every second. Every answer seemed to lead to more questions, like attempting to unravel a knot but creating an even more tangled web every time I managed to pull out a thread.

"For someone with such a shrewd, calculating mind- I think you leave it wide open more than you think," Amren said bluntly, returning to the literature in front of her. "Learning how to block the visions is just as important as learning how to tap into them at will. This journal," Amren chucked a thin, half crumbled book at me, "is unfinished. The Soothsayer went mad from all the knowledge."

I opened the crackling pages warily, letting it fall open to the page where the writing stopped suddenly in mid sentence. The last words on the page I couldn't read, they were in a language I didn't understand; but I could tell they were written in a haphazard rush. I shuddered.

"What does this say?" I asked, pointing to the hastily scrawled words.

Amren's face tightened, "It just says 'I know'."

"I know what?" I asked, immediately regretting the words slip.

Amren shrugged. "I suppose that's for you to find out."

I trudged through the streets of Velaris. The sun was setting over the Sidra, but I didn't pause to take in the view, the way the fading sunlight reflected on the water. After a few more maddening hours reading with Amren she had sent me away, instructing me to practice mentally shielding myself, not from an outside attack but to prevent my mind from infiltrating other's. As I began the walk up the hill to the townhouse I imagined my mind in an iron cage to which only I held the key.

The door to the townhouse was unlocked and I kicked my boots off in the antechamber. "Elain," I called. She'd been tending to her garden in the back yard when I'd left her this morning. The herbs and flowers she'd planted days after our arrival had already flourished under her care.

There was no answer and I felt the familiar pang of fear for Elain that had not diminished in the slightest even in the safety of Velaris and the High Lord's townhouse.

I heard Elain's delicate laugh float in on the breeze from the open door to the back garden. I followed the sound and found her sitting primly in the grass with Azriel posted stoically near her in a stiff iron chair.

Elain's golden brown hair, the hair we all shared, was unbound and as unkempt as I'd ever seen it; even at our most destitute Elain had taken great care in her personal appearance. And yet the wildness of it, her grass stained clothes, and her dirt streaked face only made her glow all the brighter. Even Azriel's shadows seemed to fade in the light of her. He watched her attentively, nodding as she spoke. It made me think of the social season in the mortal realm and the way the human men had behaved toward Elain, prattling on about their own accomplishments and only seeing Elain for her pretty face and ample dowry. Azriel was listening not out of politeness but out of genuine interest.

"Mint," said Elain holding up a small green leaf, "Will calm a sore stomach when chewed." She reached out, handing it to Azriel, their hands touching for the briefest of moments. Azriel put the leaf in his mouth and chewed. Elain beamed. "I plan on drying the leaves so that we can brew tea with it as well."

"There are shops in the markets that might be interested in purchasing such a thing," Azriel said.

Elain didn't meet his gaze, "You think so?"

Azriel nodded, "Yes I do. You've got real skill with plants. And if working with merchants doesn't interest you a great many healers in the city would jump at the bit to take you on as an apprentice."

"I don't know," Elain muttered.

"There you are," I said from the doorway.

Elain turned around quickly, "Nesta!" She jumped up from her spot on the grass and ran to me. She threw her arms around my neck. "When did you get back?" Her hair smelled the like fresh air and a mixture of different herbs.

"Just now," I said. My instincts roared at me to tell Azriel to shut his mouth, to stop filling Elain's head with such ideas, but as I took in the lushness of the garden and the joy in Elain's eyes I knew he was right. I inclined my head to the Illyrian warrior. "I think you should find an apprenticeship. Your talents can help heal many people. And if war is to come we will need healers as well as soldiers."

Azriel nodded in agreement, "I can take you tomorrow, if you'd like."

Elain hesitated but finally said, "Yes, I think that would be lovely."

Days passed. Again, Elain and I settled into a routine in our new life. The mornings belonged to Cassian on the courtyard at the House of Wind where we sparred and worked our way through an arsenal of weapons. I spent the days with Amren decoding ancient texts and learning the Old Language as she called it; in between texts I caged and released my mind but had yet to force another vision. Elain had indeed had an easy time finding a healer to train her; she returned to the townhouse every evening exhausted but fulfilled with her day's work.

On the nights that Rhys was in the city he kept mostly to himself, although he did seem genuinely pleased to learn of Elain's apprenticeship. He sometimes joined me with my lessons with Amren, attempting to crack through my shields and assisting us with our quiet research.

When Rhys was out of the city Cassian or Azriel spent the evenings in the townhouse with us. I had yet to venture out into the city at night, even though the sounds of music and revelry often carried to our residence on the hill.

One such night I was reading in the study and my ears perked up at the noise. Cassian, sitting across from me, noticed the motion. "We could go," he offered, almost noncommittally, but there was a gleam in his eyes that showed his interest. And for a moment I imagined myself dancing among them, with _him_. Over the past weeks the foreignness of Velaris had faded along with my resentment for my new circumstances. But joining in on the dancing and the music, it didn't seem right to indulge myself when there was so much work to be done. So I said, "Another time," and that was that.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something but I suddenly felt a surge within me. It wasn't the sinking feeling I'd had when I was taken by a vision, rather a flooding of coursed through me until I was prone in its grasp. I gripped the arms of the chair, my knuckles white.

Cassian sank to his knees in front of me, cupping my face in his hands. His voice sounded miles away, but his face was clear.

Just as suddenly as it had come it was gone. I slumped back into the chair. "Cassian," I said, trembling.

"What happened?" Cassian's wings fanned out behind him with a snap, my own personal shield.

"I don't know." My body shook violently after the power's sudden withdrawal. "I felt something, but I didn't see anything."

Cassian stood. "I need to find Rhys."

I grabbed his hand. "Don't go," I said.

But he didn't need to decide, for Rhys suddenly winnowed right into the study. Mor appeared next to him not a second later. He looked at me, white faced and shaking in the chair with Cassian's hands in my own. "You felt it?"

I nodded.

Footsteps thundered down the hall and Azriel rounded the corner, wings tucked tightly, tensely, behind him.

Cassian squeezed my hand even as he stood to attention in front of Rhys, Mor, and the spymaster. A protector and a general.

"Where's Amren," Rhys said.

"Right behind me," Azriel rasped out. His clothes were ripped in places and he smelled of smoke.

Indeed, moments later Amren appeared soundlessly next to Azriel. Her silver eyes gleamed animal bright in the darkness of the hall.

"Mor," Rhy said. "Go fetch Elain, we all need to hear this."

Mor returned with Elain, whose normally pleasant face was irritated. "I need to boil the agrimony for precisely fifteen minutes, Mor, or the entire batch will be ruined. What is all the fuss about?" But Elain stopped immediately when she saw the group of Rhys' inner circle quietly gathered in the study.

"Tell them," Rhys said to Azriel.

He swallowed and said roughly, "A hole has been made in the Wall."


End file.
